First Day of School

When the alarm rang it was still dark out, despite summer barely having ended. Walking to the subway, it was still black, and only on the avenues were there any cars; residential Leroy Street was completely silent and everyone slept but the rats, who scurried to their corners as I snuck by. West 4th was quiet, the express train still running on the local track, and class showed up quickly when i was the only white person on the train until midtown. Leaving the subway station, there were a few more people. All men. Unloading vans, setting up food carts, and many that were harder to define and classify than during the day. Why would this guy be up? As I walked down a sleepy 52nd street I realized that I was all alone on a dark street and that maybe that wasn't so smart. I got tricked by my daytime attire.

At the apartment with big windows, dawn was approaching, the sleeping City at its most beautiful. Out of the inky void came little stars of office lights turning on. Great silhouettes of buildnings reaching for the skies emerged, and the backdrop turned purple, blue. I sat in awe and looked at it. By the time the little girl had woken up, the sun had burst through and made all the buildnings brown, the glittering lights of Times Square no longer distinguishable. She yawned and stretched like a kitten; when I asked what was special about this day, she said, "Today is the day for feeding the Frogs!" Not until later did she mention that it was her first day of school.

And so it was, that I, not her parents, took her to her first day of preschool. The closer we got, the tighter she held my hand. In the playground, her nervousness made her run around crazily but all the time coming back and nesting in my lap, when it got too scary. Once in the classroom, she held on tight when I tried to leave her on the carpet with her new teacher. But then, she got asked to sit at her new seat at the table, and she got to pick a paper to write her name on, and suddenly, she was in her new world. She wouldn't speak this strange language they spoke, but she knew what the teachers said and nodded diligently.

And I stood in the doorway, and couldn't leave. I felt my heart expanding in my chest and wanting so much to hold her hand, to tell her that everything would be okay and convince her that she'll make friends and learn so much and love every minute. But I can't tell her. She has to see it for herself, and I know she will. I had to be the patient one, the strong one, and walk away. I've no doubt she's having a great day now, that I am far out of her mind. But it became painfully clear that she now occupies a large part of my heart, and that I am glad she is there. I always was a sucker for children.

By nine o'clock, my work was already done. I trudged toward Columbus Circle and was nearly swept away by hoards of people going in the opposite direction. What's so great about 58th street, I thought, until i realized that all the office people were simply beginning their work day, when mine was done. It's like there are different universes going on in the City, and for brief moments they overlap. I clock out. You clock in. The City inhales and exhales without interruption.